Round Here
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: Tate Langdon thinks he has put his troubled past behind him, building a life for himself in Boston with the love his life, but a call from California and a promise made in passing as a child could tear that all apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Tate Langdon thinks he has put his troubled past behind him, building a life for himself in Boston with the love his life, but a call from California and a promise made in passing as a child could tear that all apart. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story, I ship Violate, you know what I would have done differently.**

**A/N: This story won't be long, about five to seven chapters. I hope you enjoy it, also Tate isn't a psychopath, just bipolar. This story is also filled with flashbacks, which are in italics. **

** "Round Here"**

**Tate**

_He is in the basement of his childhood home, his dreams often take place here in that old house back in California. The familiar smell of formaldehyde and mildew fill his nose, the air is damp and suddenly he is transported into the past, 198 to his five year old self._

_He is no taller than the old examination table that sits in the small room, he is looking for that old dump truck, when he finally sees it, it's over by a stack of old moving boxes. Boxes that are sure to be in use again, he crawls over when a pair of eyes meet him off a nearby shelf. Suddenly he is being grabbed by some sort of creature, that looks to be some sort of goblin. He would scream for his mother but he knows she Is still passed out drunk. He starts to lose all hope when he feels a pair of hands wrapped protectively around him._

_He has his tightly shut, so he doesn't have to stare at the creature any longer. "Thaddeus! Go away!" A woman's voice calls._

_He opens his eyes and looks up to a woman, tall, elegant, beautiful, she smiles down at him. "What's your name, child?" she asks, softly. It sounds maternal, he isn't used to that._

"_T-tate," he whimpers._

"_Tate, if Thaddeus bothers you again, I just want you to close your eyes and tell him to go away."_

_He doesn't know where it comes from, it might just be the woman holding him so lovingly in his arms._

"_I wish you were my Mommy…"_

**Later**

The year is 2000, he is now 23 years old. Tate is awaken with a jolt, he can feel the other side of the mattress move and the figure in his arms start to pull away. His eyes start to flutter open and meet the gaze of his wife, she is still as beautiful as the day he met her. The same pin straight hair, her deep brown eyes that show everything, her pale almost translucent skin, that only seems to glow more than ever. Violet Harmon, well Langdon (for the past 8 months at least) forever the love of his life, though.

"Vi," he groans, sleepily. "Where are you going?"

Violet frowns, and tries to pull away. "Your daughter won't get off my bladder," she sighs, defeated. "And her father won't let me get out of bed," she pulls at his arm that lays protectively across her bulging belly.

Tate retracts his arm, sits up and throws his legs over the bed and quickly around the small bedroom to her side of the bed. He tucks his hands under her back and helps guide her up into the sitting position, ever since the morning sickness kicked in he had felt terrible for putting this condition. It looks uncomfortable on her petite frame, her legs and arms not as thin as they usually are but still look unsteady, the bulge in her stomach looks about ready to snap her back and knock her on her ass.

Violet stands up slowly, his old, "Normal People Scare Me," t-shirt, fall just above her underwear now, instead of above her knees. She's still so sexy, especially since her breast have filled out more, it takes everything in his power not to ravage her right there. She catches him staring and gives him an uneasy smile.

"Oh god," she groans, "am I leaking something, is something hanging out of me?"

Tate smiles, broadly and wraps his arms around her, his hands supporting her lower back. "No," he kisses her gently. "You're just beautiful, that's all."

Violet rolls her eyes. "You have to say that, you couldn't keep it in your pants," she cracks, lightly.

Tate pouts before, peppering her faces with kisses playfully. "But now you can have a son just like me," he mocks, though in the back of his mind he is terrified of that.

Violet shakes her head and laughs, shortly. "No," she says, simply. "It's a girl."

Tate rolls his eyes. "And how would you know that?" he shoots back. "You refuse to let the doctor tell you."

Violet's lips form a line. "A mother just knows, Tate," she states, clicking her tongue.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs, looking down at the horrible beige carpet that every apartment seems to possess. "It's good that you have those maternal instincts, because I am going to make a shit father," he admits, softly stroking her stomach.

Violet lifts her hands up and strokes his face lovingly. "Tate…we've been over this," she kisses his cheek. "I wouldn't be having this baby with you if I thought you would be a threat, you're doing so well…"

Tate wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Fine," he mutters.

"Tate?"

"Yes?"

"I still have to pee."

**Later**

_He hears her crying from the kitchen, and it breaks his heart almost immediately, he is twelve now and voices are starting to invade his mind. The kind that tell him to harm himself, to harm others, the ones that he desperately once to go away; they only seem to linger in this house. He desperately wants to leave this house, but that would mean leaving Nora and Addie, so he is torn._

_He walks into the kitchen where he finds Nora leaning over the counter, sobs shaking through her body. Tate walks over and places a hand gently over hers; she looks up at him with a vacant expression, before she starts sobbing again. _

_Nora drags a handkerchief over her eyes. "W-who are you," she sobs. "My baby, have you seen my baby."_

_Tate shakes his head. "You want a baby?" he sighs, she has always been so good to him; when she wasn't losing her train of thought._

_Nora nods, and smiles through her tears. "Yes, bring me my baby._

"_I will bring you a baby as soon as I can."_

Tate is ripped from his reverie when the phone rings; he loosens the tie around his neck slightly and adjusts his ass in the seat. He took a job at a small publisher in Boston, as a fact checker, until he could get his own book published. A story about a disturbed boy saved by his muse, a story that he was all too familiar with; although that seemed to be a classic.

Tate shakes away his dreariness and reaches for the phone. "Colonial Publishers," he answers. "Tate Langdon, speaking."

"Tate," Violet sniffles from the other end. "You need to come home," she sobs.

Tate sits up straight, trying not to lose it. "Are you okay," he asks, quickly. She had a doctor's appointment that morning. "A-are you okay, is it the baby?"

"No I mean yes…the baby is fine," she says, shakily. "Your mother called,"

Tate's fists clench around his coffee mug, the thought his mother driving him mad. "What did she do to you," he grits his teeth. "She is allowed nowhere near our child."

Violet clears her throat. "It's not that either," she sighs. "Tate I am so sorry, it- it's Addie."

"What about Addie?" he asks, calming down bit.

"Just come home as soon as you can."

**A/N: Welp there you go, the first chapter. Please, please, please review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the positive reviews! Love all you guys! Anyway, here is chapter 2. Also, Tate lives in Murder House during the flashbacks and the Harmons live where Constance lives.**

** Chapter 2**

**Tate**

_Dr. Harmon was his last resort as a therapist, although he knew exactly what he was going to say. At first Tate had thought he seemed like somewhat of a jackass, with his spiked hair, his purple button up shirts, and the way he always seemed to sport the perfect five o'clock shadow. But there was something about him that seemed different, maybe it was the office, but the voices seemed to quiet down. But then again the voices never spoke off his property. He felt almost normal._

_Ben sat across from Tate staring intently at him. "So.., Tate, what brings you hear?" he asks, quietly. Unlike other therapists, he doesn't force him to speak but urges him along gently._

_Yet at that time, Tate finds it annoying; he rolls his eyes. "Didn't you hear, I am fucked in the head," he spits out, crassly._

_To his surprise, smiles. "Well, obviously," he chuckles. "But I am here to help you get better."_

"_You don't think I am hopeless?" Tate asks, his tone flabbergasted._

"_Anybody can get better, Tate."_

Violet stood there leaning against Tate's side as they stood outside the Harmon's home in California . The plane ride had been hard on Violet, specifically her back. Tate knocked on the front door furiously, wanting to get Violet off her feet and tucked away into bed. She would be nine months soon, ready to burst when something struck him.

"Vi," he asks, gently. "Was it safe for you and the baby to fly?"

Violet looks at him, her eyes tired but she plasters a weary smile across her face. "Of course," she yawns. "I went to the doctor beforehand remember…"

Tate frowns. "Yeah, but not before you got on the plane," he points out. "I got home all our shit was packed in a bag and we left."

Violet turns and wraps her arms lovingly around his shoulders, leaning up and giving Tate a sweet kiss on the lips. "You worry too much," she mumbles, against his lips.

"I have to worry," he sighs, placing his hands on both sides of her belly. "You two are all I have, especially now."

Violet can see the pain lingering in his eyes, she strokes his cheek. "I really sorry about your sister," she whispers.

The door swings open and Vivien comes into view."You two are still hanging on each other," Vivien chuckles.

She looks good, even though the years have passed; Tate can't help but inwardly smile that Violet will probably look like that one day (probably more beautiful). Vivien stepped forward giving Tate a kiss on the cheek, she always seemed so warm and maternal. "It's good to see you, Tate."

Tate hugs her gently and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you too, Vivien," he smiles.

Vivien nods and turns to Violet, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter. She looks down and places her hands, lovingly on Violet's stomach. "My baby," she whispers, "it seems there is something between us."

Violet grins and looks down at her mother's hands. "Yeah," she chuckles, "she'll be here soon."

"She?" exclaims Vivien, "I am having a granddaughter?"

Tate rolls his eyes. " You don't know that yet," he groans, "you won't let the doctor tell you."

Vivien turns to Tate and gives him a look. "A mother just knows Tate," she scoffs.

**Later**

Tate sat in the kitchen eating a turkey sandwich that Vivien had assembled for him, while she took Violet upstairs forcing her to rest. Tate picked at the crust, he hadn't been able to eat, he had no appetite. He was finally left in quiet to think of sister's passing, it hadn't really hit him yet in the whirlwind of traveling. He sighs and looks up at the clock, it's already 9 PM, his body still set to east coast time isn't even tired.

He sighs and pulls his pill box out of his jacket pocket, putting the tiny blue pill on the back of his tongue and swallowing with his glass of water. Footsteps echoed through the kitchen and Tate quickly looked up, he saw Dr. Harmon standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a wine glass clasped firmly in his hand. He strolled along towards the island where a bottle of red wine sat on the table, probably left over from dinner.

"Tate," he greets, with a nod. "It's good to see you, I would offer you a glass but psych meds and alcohol don't mix."

Tate nods. "Yeah, I know, besides I have to see my mother tomorrow so I shouldn't be drinking," he smirks. "But then again, maybe I should."

Ben chuckles lightly. "Your mother is quite the _pill_."

"You can say it," deadpans Tate. "She's a bitch."

Ben sets his glass down, after taking a long sip and places his hand on Tate's shoulder. "If you need to talk, I am here."

"Same old fee?" jokes Tate.

Ben shakes his head. "We're family, Tate, it's just what do you ."

He picks his glass back up, but stops and walks back over to the cabinet and pulls another glass before walking over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of white wine, he pours some in the glass, before glancing back over at Tate. "Vivien had a long day with, Nicholas," he chuckles. "He has the flu, which means he regressed back to infancy."

Tate's eyes widen. "Violet can't get the flu," he says, shakily. "Maybe, I should take her to a hotel."

Ben pats Tate's back again. "He is past being contagious," he smiles. "You need to calm down, although, I empathize with the fears of a first time father."

Tate looks down at his sandwich, his hands idly tearing off the crust. "I just don't want her to be like me," he admits, quietly.

Ben frowns, "I am not going to lie to you, Tate," he says, bluntly. "Mental illness is hereditary, and there is a chance she could suffer from bi-polar disorder."

That had always been Tate's lingering fear, a child just like him and that broke his heart. He didn't think that anybody deserved that sort of burden on their soul. It was hard at times, scary and all around it was just upsetting. It made his chest tighten, and his breath shaky, he would do anything he could to prevent that.

**Later**

_He had to get out of his session, the things that Dr. Harmon and himself were discussing, were just too heavy for him to burden. Tate excused himself quickly and made his way to the bathroom, he would splash some water on his face, try to compose himself and go back to his session. He didn't knock and he just barged right in, when he found her._

_Violet stood there over the sink, her arm extended, the blood leaking down her arm. He was all too familiar with this stance, he had been in it himself one too many times. He was intrigued by the girl to say the least, he had to get her attention._

"_If you want to kill yourself cut vertically, they can't stitch that up." he says, firmly. "They can't stitch that up."_

_Violet turns, quickly. "How did you get in here?" she asks, incredulously._

_Tate smirks and pulls the door shut, "If you're going to kill yourself, try locking the door."_

Violet moans gently into the darkness of the guest bedroom as Tate feels her release the tension as their climaxes hit. He pulls out of her, panting heavily, pressing his chest against her back. They lay there, taking each other in during the early morning hours as their bodies are still set to east coast time. The thing about Violet was no matter how uncomfortable, the pregnancy always seemed to had her on edge, hornier than he had ever seen her to put it bluntly. Something he was always happy to oblige, especially now since it helped him forget.

He pulls the blankets up over her, as he sees start to shiver, his hands meet her belly; they always seem to meet her there these days. He sits up and presses his ear gently to the side of her stomach, Violet running her fingers through his curls.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he whispers, into her stretched skin. He looks up at Violet. "I won't let anything happen to you either." His mind is still wandering back to the conversation with Ben in the kitchen.

Violet frowns, "Tate," she mumbles. "What's going on with you?"

Tate traces Violet's delicate features. "I just want to protect the two of you," he mutters. "From everything, including myself."

**A/N: Alright, chapter 2. Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story.**

**A/N: Sorry this took a bit longer to update, my computer crashed deleting this file.**

** Chapter 3**

**Tate**

_Against 's better judgment, Tate and Violet started to hang out, first they had connected on their shared habit of self-injury but then it became something more. Soon their in-depth conversations about poetry, movies, and music turned to full blown make out sessions, both in which Tate didn't mind getting lost in._

_They lay on the beach, during school while neither feel like being there and his lips feverishly attack her neck. He runs his hands up her skirt, caressing her soft skin, but stops when he feels her intake of breath against his lips. He pulls away and looks down at her with worried eyes before lifting her long skirt up past her thighs to find a fresh wound on her inner thigh, he leans back down and kisses it drawing a shiver from her._

_Tate runs his thumb over the fresh cut. "I don't like when you cut yourself," he mumbles. _

_Violet rolls her eyes. "Says the boy who was giving me tips on how to off myself," she scoffs. "Besides you do it."_

_Tate shakes his head. "Not anymore," he mumbles, kissing her cheek. "Not since I met you, now why did you cut yourself?" _

"_My Mom is pregnant," she sighs. "The thing that ripped my family apart in the first place is happening again."_

Tate and Violet had fallen back asleep after their early morning _session_, he stretches his arms out expecting to find Violet's warm figure still lying next to him but she isn't there. He opens his eyes to find her space empty, and for once doesn't worry because she probably had to pee; she always has to pee these days.

Tate sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the bed, before gathering some clothes from the suitcase next to the bed, he throws them on his body and shoves his feet into his chucks before he exits the room. The house is quiet for the most part, but he hears soft laughter from downstairs; it's angelic so obviously it must be Violet's, he could never forget her laugh.

When he gets to the kitchen, he finds Violet fully dressed and sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of fruity pebbles and some orange juice, she had been craving weird shit lately because normally she wouldn't be caught dead with that in their house. Her flats that she had taken to wearing since her ankles started to swell sat on the floor while her legs lay propped up on a chair across from her.

Her baby brother, Nicholas, although he was not much of a baby anymore and was nearing the age of seven stood next to her. His bowl of cereal lay discarded across from Violet, where the chair that her feet were propped on sat. Nicholas looked far from sick in his spiderman pajamas and his disheveled black curls, his tiny hands pressed against Violet's stomach.

Nicholas smiles, brightly. "I can feel her!" he exclaims, excitedly.

Violet smiles, radiantly, down at her little brother; her hands pressed over top of his. "Oof, I can too." She laughs, massaging her rib cage.

"Or he," Tate chuckles, letting his presence known.

Nicholas turns and gives Tate a toothy grin; he is missing his front top teeth now. "Tate," he yells, excitedly. "Come feel the baby!"

Tate walks over to where Nicholas and his wife are sitting, and presses his hands gently to Violet's stomach. He hated to admit it, but he had yet to feel the baby move; it was just like everytime he tried to make contact with the baby it would halt any signs of life. If he hadn't heard the heartbeat, he would have been worried, but apparently she had quite the kick and yes he secretly thought it was a girl as well.

Like so many times before, he didn't feel anything; he sighed and retracted his hand. "I-I don't feel anything," he mumbles, ashamed.

Violet frowns and looks over at Nicholas. "Nicholas-"

"I go by Nick now!" he retorts with a yell, his tiny arms crossed.

Violet smirks, probably proud of her brother's stubborn nature. "Nick," she corrects, "go get dressed, we have to go over to Constance's." That's right, Violet was supposed to babysit him that day and give her parents a break.

Nick wrinkles his nose. "I don't like her," he moans.

Tate lets out a chuckle, and ruffles his hair. "That makes two of us, buddy." He squeezes his shoulder affectionately. "But listen to your sister and get dressed."

Nick's eyes widen. "Will the ghosts get me if I don't?" he asks, shakily. "I heard ghosts this morning, they were moaning."

Tate's eyes widen and he looks over at Violet, who now has her face buried deep in her hands. He looks back down at the young boy at his feet, and gives him a small smile. "That's exactly what will happen."

**Later**

_Nora sat down in the basement, while Tate on the stairs across from her, the voices kept getting worse day by day. She smiled dazedly over at the young boy, it was one of her lucid days, well almost because she rocked back and forth with a rolled up blanket in her arms._

"_I am practicing," she mutters. "I am practicing for the day you bring me my baby."_

_Tate frowned, already regretting the day he had made the promise for he had only been nine at the time, he was thirteen now, but he would keep it. That was for sure. "One day I will," he reminds her._

"_I want a boy, a sweet boy, and no girls."_

Tate sat in the kitchen of his mother's home, with arm firmly wrapped around Violet, while Nick played somewhere in the living room with the strict instructions not to enter the basement. Violet was more weepy and hormonal than usual, though it was sad anyway had her head buried deep in Tate's shoulder with her tears soaking through his cardigan. He was still too numb to cry as his mother regaled them with the tales of how his sister had ran into the street on Halloween and been hit by a car.

Tate kisses the top of Violet's head as she sniffles. "It will be okay," he mutters.

Violet looks up at Tate, her lip quivering, "I am sorry," she whimpers. "She is your sister and I am the one crying like a little bitch."

Tate shakes his head. "No, love," he croons. "You're fine."

Constance holds a cigarette between her freshly manicured fingers, blowing a puff of smoke towards Violet. "Yes," she exhales. "She's in a better place,dear."

Tate swats the smoke away from Violet's face. "Can't you wait until we leave to do that?" he sighs. "The smoke isn't good for the baby."

Constance smirks at Tate. "I smoked while I was pregnant with all four of you," she retorts.

Violet scowls at Constance and looks down. "Because you're just mother of the year…" she mutters.

Constance puts her cigarette out and flicks it at Violet who swatted it away quickly. Tate stands up and grabs Constance's hand. "You do something like that again, and I will snap your fuck wrist," he snaps. "And you know I am capable."

"Oh that's right, you and your little plot to take out the entire student body," Constance sneers. "Blaming it on the voices in your head, and some shit about this house," She turns to Violet, "are you really sure that you want to have a baby with that?"

Violet wraps her arms across her stomach protectively. "He will be a better parent than you," she defends, through gritted teeth.

Tate feels a strange sense of pride, it feels good hearing that shit from her lips. It really shows how far he has come, but then it falters because he can't even get the kid to move for him and it's not hard to be a better parent than Constance.

Constance smiles, tartly. "Let's just hope that the little bastard doesn't inherit its father's ailments." She croons, bitterly. "You don't want to know how much I spent on therapy with this one."

Tate is about to retort, rip Constance's throat out but he feels a tugging at the leg of his jeans. He looks down to see Nicholas, his hair is disheveled, his eyes wide with terror and a urine stain fresh on his pants. Tate hops up quickly, and picks the small boy up holding him to his chest, while Violet strokes the little boy's back gently.

"Buddy," croons Tate. "What happened?"

"I want Mommy…" he sobs. "I want my Mommy."

Violet stands up, quickly, wobbling a bit. "What happened?" she sighs, and then she frowns and knits her eyebrows. "You went in the basement, didn't you?"

Nicholas buries his head into Tate's shoulder. "Yes, and then some monster tried to eat me and some weird lady asked me why I had brought her a baby yet."

**A/N: Sorry, not the best, update?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the kind reviews! Just a chapter or two more!**

** Chapter 4**

**Tate**

_Tate could hear Addie screaming from his bedroom. She had been locked in the "naughty girl" closet since he had gotten home from elementary school, and frankly he couldn't take it anymore. He decided that it was finally time to do something about it. She had taken the blame for the stuff Tate broke after the voices told him to, back when it happened rarely and far apart._

_Tate slipped out of his bedroom and crept down the hall to the closet, his feet careful not to disturb any wood that he knew would creak. When he finally reached the door, he swung it open and Addie stumbled out in her wrinkled dress from the day; her cheeks stained with tears._

_Tate reached his hand up to grab her hand. "Come on, Addie," he whispers, gently. "Let's go to bed."_

_Addie squeezed her little brother's hand as he led her back down the hall to her bedroom, when they got there Addie didn't bother to change. She kicked her shoes off and climbed into bed, patting the spot next to her. Tate climbed into the bed next to her and curled up next to her, a shiver ran down his spy at one of his own thoughts._

"_Addie," he mutters, "What if Mommy finds out it was me that let you out, I will be locked in there next."_

"_Don't worry, Tatey," she sighs. "I won't let that happen."_

It didn't strike Tate that his sister, his protector was really gone until the funeral was over. Everybody had gathered back at Constance's house to eat her array of southern fried cooking, but Tate didn't think he could stomach it; the fried food, the people or his mother. He found himself held up in his old bedroom, sifting through his old record collection. He made note to bring it back to Boston with him, he wanted his daughter to know good music.

He looked through his old stuff, he wanted to keep busy, he didn't want the voices to come back. He had taken his pills today, but he knew the house did things. It had a way of fucking with your mind, the voices never bothered him once he left it and he needed to keep it that way. Violet was the only one that could control them even in the house, he wanted to go away for her. He finds himself zoning out when he hears it.

"_Tate."_ He shakes his head. "_Tate."_

"Fuck off!" he growls.

"Sorry." Tate turns around to see Violet, standing there in the doorway in her black maternity dress with a plate in her hand, chewing on something. "I just wanted to see if you are hungry.."

Tate frowns, instantly feeling guilty; he was letting his past get the best of him. "Oh, Vi, I am so sorry," he apologizes, furiously. "I thought-"

Violet holds her hand up. "It's okay, Tate," she smiles, sadly. "I understand, even if you were really telling me to fuck off I would understand."

Tate stands up and walks over to Violet, he touches her forearm gently. "I would never say that to you," he reassures her, quietly. "I just thought you were one of the other guests," he lies.

Violet picks up a small finger sandwich and takes a bite. "It's okay," she soothes him, lovingly. "I just- ow," she growls out, holding her stomach and nearly dropping the small paper plate to the ground.

Tate frowns, and immediately puts his hand to her lower back and leads her over to the bed helping her sit down. "Are you okay?" he asks, frantically. "Should I call a doctor?"

Violet shakes her head, and pats the spot next to her; signaling for him to sit. "No, it's just indigestion, I have been ravenous all day and I am paying for it," she giggles, but her eyes hold uncertainty. Her face then becomes serious, and she pulls Tate to her so that their abdomens touch. "But how are you, we haven't talked about this…since well it happened."

Tate looked into Violet's eyes and sighed, he couldn't hide his feelings from her ever. "What is there to talk about? My sister is dead," his voice cracks on the last word, and suddenly the tears he has been holding back; he buries his face into Violet's shoulder. "My sister is dead," he sobs. "She isn't coming back and I left her here with this darkness, which I can feel getting to me again."

Violet shakes her head furiously, and rakes her fingers through his curls. "No, no, baby," she croons. " I have you," she takes his hand and presses it to her belly. "We have you now."

Tate cries harder against Violet, his hands shaking against her stomach. "She won't even move for me," he sobs. "My sister is dead and my kid already hates me, maybe I should just leave and save her years of disappointment."

Violet pulls away and scowls at him, and then her hand meets his cheek in stinging slap. "Don't you ever say that, Tate Langdon!" she snaps. "You know what that does to a kid!"

Tate looks at her sorrowfully. "What if my mother was right, what if-"

Violet stands up quickly, well as quickly as she can anyway because she wobbles a bit. "Find me when you're done being a shit head!" she snaps.

**Later**

_He is seventeen now and has been seeing Dr. Harmon for a couple months, it seems to be helping; the medication and a paternal figure that actually seems to care. He doesn't really feel the need to go through with the "noble war," which has been chalked up to chemical imbalance and psychosis, which apparently could be properly treated with Prozac or whatever it was called. He had been doing well, he had been permitted to see Violet, the voices didn't bother him even in the house, but that didn't stop Nora._

_Tate closed his bedroom door, gently, because Violet lays asleep butt naked in his bed, her body curled under the sheets. This had been their first time, not his altogether, but hers and he was surprised how gentle and careful he had been. He had had a grunge rock goddess underneath him and he was surprised he didn't just rip all her clothes off the moment she stepped in the room. She had fallen asleep the moment they finished and her head had hit the pillow, he had slipped his underwear back on to get some water, but was surprised to find Nora in the wall._

_Nora smiled. "I saw the girl," she says, airily. "Is she the one you're getting the baby from?"_

_Tate frowns, she was holding onto a promise he made as a boy; back at a time he had nobody else who really gave two shits about him. But now he had Violet, she and her family had saved him. "I don't know yet," he mumbles, before a smirk plays at his lips. "I am just getting my practice on making on in."_

_The truth was, Violet was on the pill and they had used a condom, so hopefully no baby would come after this encounter. But Nora didn't need to know this, he hoped that soon she would forget this whole mess because it had been years. But then she touched his cheek, and he could never resist that; so tender and motherly._

"_I will get you your baby," he says with a sigh. "She will get you your baby."_

_It's a lie, sure he wouldn't mind a kid with her one day, but he knows that it wouldn't happen until she is far away from this place. Out of Nora's grasp._

Tate gave Violet a little while to cool down and himself time to calm himself, dry his tears; he didn't feel like being a snotty mess, especially when he had the chance of seeing his mother and showing her that he was still that same weak little boy. The house had cleared out, actually nobody seemed to linger after the wake. They probably didn't want to deal with Constance much longer.

Tate decided that Violet, who was nowhere to be found had probably walked back over to the Harmon household, but as Tate walked through the house towards the front door. He really wanted to get out of this house, a certain darkness seemed to form again. Before he could leave, he heard it, it made him jump Because it was just that familiar.

Violet's scream from the basement…

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN Review…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story.**

**A/N: Thanks so much to the people who actually took the time to review. I am sorry the plot was so easy to figure out. **

** Chapter 5**

**Tate**

_The first time Tate stumbled upon Charles Montgomery, he had just turned fifteen; he was walking around the house looking for Nora and trying to ignore the voices in his head. He stumbled down into the basement, to see a man standing by the old examining table in the back room, he was bent over something. A dead mouse and squirrel is what it seemed to be like, Tate knew from the looks of it. He felt small clenching in his stomach._

"_Uh," Tate calls. "Can I help you?"_

_Charles turns to look at Tate. "Dr. Charles Montgomery," he introduces. "You aren't one of the boyfriends are you? Nora wouldn't like that, not since Thaddeus," he grunts._

_Tate shakes his head. " No, I am Tate and I live upstairs," he mutters._

_Charles nods. "Ah, you," he mumbles. "The replacement, I am getting Nora what she really wants."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Yes, I would do anything to make her happy," he sighs, exasperatedly. "To keep her._

_Tate thought that sounded pathetic and love sick, doing anything to make the one you love happy. Perhaps he had felt nothing for a female except the usual perpetual hard on that most 15 year old boys felt for pretty girls. But love or even the small amount of lust he felt seemed stupid, he was given hands and love just seemed painful, and pathetic._

Tate scurried off down the stairs, as fast as his legs would let him; luckily for him the adrenaline and his years spent on the track team winning had gotten him there just in time. The basement had been transformed, it was no longer dark and dank, but it was lit with candles in the most eery way possible. Violet lay on the examination table, the terror shimmering in her deep eyes and her knees held together tight as if to tell the kid to hold on a little while longer. The two dead nurses trying to put a mask of ether on her face, as she turns her head side to side as to avoid it.

"Please," she sobs, "that's bad for the baby!"

The larger nurse grabs her face, while the petite one goes to hold the mask over her face. "Come on, dear," the heavy nurse says, soothingly. "Just a little medicine to take the pain away."

"No!" Violet shrieks, terrified.

Charles sits by her legs, Violet's dress thrown up over her thighs, with a scalpel in his hands. "I am going to have to make an incision, dear, you'll tear." He says, simply.

Violet shakes her head. "No, no, please," she cries. "I don't want to have my baby here."

Tate can't watch much more of this, it's enraging to him and he can feel his body shaking with anger. He is angry at everybody, at Charles because he practically violating his wife in the most personal way possible. At the nurses who are trying to put her under, which in the end could harm their child. But mostly he is angry at himself for this ridiculous promise he made when he was young and craving love. But Tate had love now, and his loves were about to get hacked to bits, and he would not stand for that.

Tate advances towards Violet, he shoves the smaller nurse out of the way, grasping her hand tightly, reassuringly. He closes his eyes, as he feels Violet's hands squeeze his back. "Go away!" he growls, loudly.

When he opens his eyes, the basement is empty again, all that remains is Violet with her eyes closed breathing heavily; her body still exposed with her dress pulled up and her underwear long discarded. Tate quickly moves to cover her up, pulling her dress down. He pulls his hand away from Violet's, bending over to pick up her underwear, but it alarmed to feel that they are soaked under his touch.

Violet moans, painfully. "Tate," she whimpers. "Please, please get me out of here; my water broke."

Tate's eyes widen, and he leans forward kissing the crown of her head. "Do you think you can make it upstairs, can you walk?" he asks, worriedly.

Violet nods, a fresh batch of tears start to leak from her eyes; she sits up slowly and throws her legs over the edge of the examining table. When she gets to her feet, she halts and her body tense; a grunt escapes her lips as a particularly bad contraction rips through her body. There is no way she is making it up the stairs on her own.

Tate scoops her up, quickly; he balances her in his arms and quickly makes his way up the stairs. Violet wraps her arms around his neck, occasionally he feels the grip tighten, but he doesn't complain for he put her in this situation. He manages to make it to the front door, Violet's breathing starting to grow heavier from the pain.

"It hurts, Tate," she whines. "It hurts so badly." He knows she must be in pain, because this is a girl who used to be addicted to pain and now she is crying over it.

Tate kisses the crown. "I know, Vi, I know," he croons. "I am going to take you to the hospital, and they will give you so many drugs you will think you're a t a rave," he cracks, lightly.

Violet rests her head in the crook of Tate's neck, letting out a strangled sob breaking his heart. His love in pain and it's his entire fault, and that damn broken condom. "Please hurry," she urges.

Tate doesn't respond, he simply moves quicker finally making it to the front door, but then he is stopped. Nora appears in front of Tate, shit, how would he get past her; she places her hand gently on Tate's cheek, he sighs feeling a similar reaction stirring inside of him, one of utter gratitude over something she had done for him many years ago.

"Where are you taking my baby?" she asks, anxiously; she rests her hand against Violet's stomach. "That is my baby in there!"

"Nora-"

Nora moves forward but Tate takes a step backwards; Violet sobbing violently into his neck. "That baby is mine." she says, quietly.

He doesn't know what he is going to do, he can't give that baby up to Nora; he could ever actually really do that. But he really doesn't think he has the heart to tell her those three words, either, but then something happens; he feels something swift and hard against his ribcage. The baby had kicked; he felt it and he knew what he had to do.

Tate closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "GO AWAY!" he shouts.

**Later**

_Something felt different the day Tate found out that he was going to be a father, there was a strange feeling the moment his eyes opened. Violet and Tate had been living in Boston, in their small apartment from the college they had graduated from and they were newly engaged . Things had been going great, but then Violet started getting violently ill and Tate worried._

_He was woken the same way he had been the past couple weeks, to the sound of Violet's retching. He stood up quickly to go help Violet, but when he got to her she wasn't leaning over the toilet but sitting on the lid of the toilet with her head buried in her hands. Sobs seemed to go through her body, and he automatically assumed the worst. _

_Tate is immediately by her side, rubbing her back. "Vi," he croons. "What's wrong?"_

_Violet looks at him, with guilty eyes. "Don't leave me," she sighs. "When I tell you, promise not to leave me?"_

_Tate frowns. "Violet," he says, sternly; grabbing her hand. "I would never, ever, leave you." _

_Violet rests her head on his shoulder. "I am pregnant," she whispers. "I am sorry…"_

_He doesn't know what he feels at that moment, it's jumbled up and it made his heart beat faster than it ever had. Part of him is happy, there is something so delicate and beautiful on its way to show his and Violet's love. The other part of him is terrified, the baby might just be like him and that he would fuck everything up. _

_Torn_

"It's a girl!"

A loud cry fills the room which is a contrast to the dingy old basement of Murder House, it's a crisp white room with a fill in doctor for Violet; a woman with dark curls pulled back in her surgical hat and a mask. Violet is propped up on the bed, her legs propped up in a faded blue hospital gown, and she is drenched head to toe in sweat but still looks more radiant than ever. Tate stands next to her, terrified with his hand clasped tightly in hers, trying to stay out of the way of her IV and the passing doctors.

Violet falls back against the bed, exhausted; she gives a weary smile. "I want to see her," she says, eagerly.

Tate brushes a sweaty tendril from her face and gives her a kiss on her sweat forehead. "You did so good, Vi, so fucking good." he smiles.

A red headed nurse in purple scrubs walks over and places the baby on Violet's chest. The little girl hasn't had a proper cleaning yet, and is still covered in blood and white gunk but Tate is still sure that she is probably the most beautiful baby that he has ever seen. He feels a weird surge of emotion, and tears run down his cheeks.

Violet must agree because tears are streaming down her face. "Oh god, Tate, she is so beautiful," she cries.

Tate plants several kisses on her face, showing his undying gratitude. "Just like her mother," he whispers.

Violet laughs through her tears. "So cheesy."

"I thought this was a proper occasion to be cheesy."

Violet moves her lips to his ear. "Hey," she mumbles. "I was right."

"About?"

"My motherly intuition," she smirks, before turning back to look at their daughter.

**A/N: Review and I will tell you the baby's name. ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story, however I own Candace Kurtina Langdon, just kidding that isn't really her name.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! So things are going to be revealed….this is the second to last chapter. Enjoy!**

** Chapter 6**

**Tate**

_Tate had very few memories of his father, that's what happens when one's father leaves them when they are very young. The last memory he ever really had of Hugo Langdon, was the day he was supposed to take him to a baseball game. That showed what Hugo really knew about his children because Tate hated most sports with a burning passion. He remembers the day so clearly, he was excited, he got to spend some time with his Dad._

_That plan didn't last very long because not even 20 minutes after Hugo and his youngest son pulled out the driveway they halted in front of an apartment building right off the UCLA campus. Hugo turned to his son who sat belted in the front seat. Hugo turned to his son and gave him a dopey smiley, he had probably just had his morning beers._

_He leans down to Tate, Tate can smell it, yeah he definitely had his beers. "Stay here son," he orders, sternly. "Daddy has to run a few errands."_

_Tate looks down at the tops of crisp white sneakers. "What about the game?" he asks, innocently. The disappointment was definitely present in his voice._

_Hugo turns to open the door, he steps out but leans over to look at Tate through the open door. "Daddy will only be a few minutes," he says, gruffly. "Pop a window in case I take a little longer."_

_Not minutes but hours later, Tate still found himself sitting in that car; his father had still yet to make an appearance. Another time his father had left him, disappointed him._

_**Maya Elise Langdon**_

_** November 3, 2000**_

_** 7lbs 2oz 18 in.**_

Tate sat in a chair next to Violet, she had fallen asleep the minute she had gotten back to recovery; her body horribly exhausted from the trauma that is childbirth. Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed and her dirty blonde tussled in a way that made it look like a halo. He her hands lay protectively over her stomach that still swelled, even though Maya lay inches away in her cradle sleeping peacefully.

A small whimper rang through the air from the baby's bed, and Tate was on his feet in an instant. He picked Maya up and held her close to his chest, and was surprised when her whimpering ceased. Tate walked them back over to his seat; he sat down and stroked the baby's cheek examining every one of her features.

Maya's skin was flawless, so pink and creamy; she even seemed to smell pink (if that made any sense). He took note that she had Violet's lips and nose, but her eyes took his shape, she would definitely have brown eyes between the two of them. He runs his hand gently over her soft tuft of dirty blonde curls, with a slight smile on his face.

Tate leans forward, kissing her forehead, gently. "I am going to have to lock you in the attic when you're older," he whispers, teasingly. "You look like your mother, which means trouble for me."

Maya's perfect lips form an O with a yawn, and Tate just chuckles. "Am I boring you already?" he asks, gently. "Well too bad, because I am not going anywhere."

Thinking back he thought how stupid it was to suggest he could leave her for her own good, looking at her now he didn't think he ever wanted to let her go. He just couldn't take his eyes off of Maya, he didn't think you could fall in love with somebody the moment you saw them, until now.

"Do I have competition?" Violet questions, drowsily.

Tate looks up from Maya to see Violet staring at them through half-lidded eyes, she yawns before letting out a sleepy laugh. She motions for Tate to bring Maya over to the bed; when he gets there she extends her arms showing that she wants to take the baby. He places Maya gently in her arms, before sitting on the corner of the bed and watches his two girls.

Tate kisses Violet's forehead. "How do you feel?" he asks, gently.

Violet's head rolls against Tate's shoulder. "Like I was stabbed in the vagina repeatedly," she cracks; grimacing as she shifts her body.

Tate smirks, pressing his lips to her ear. "Technically you were," he teases. "Sorry, you were in so much pain and I was a shitty coach."

Violet kisses Maya's forehead. "She was worth it," she says, gently. "Although, I am not looking forward to a ten hour flight with a newborn, and you were fine once you stopped apologizing and just held my hand."

Tate strokes Maya's cheek, "Hopefully, they serve alcohol on the flight," he laughs.

"I was lucky she wasn't born on the flight," she laughs. "Not supposed to fly past seven months."

Tate's eyes widen. "Then why did you come?" he asks, frantically.

Violet rests Maya against her chest and strokes Tate's cheek. "Because you needed me," she sighs

Tate would have been pissed if Violet hadn't just given birth, he would yell at her for being so stupid and putting her and the baby at risk. "So," he sighs. "I am a big boy, could have come here on my own."

Violet runs her across his cheek, lovingly. "Yes," she presses her lips to his and mutters against them. "But that's what you do when you love somebody, you make sacrifices.

**Later**

_Tate knocked on the door to the Harmon's home repeatedly; he was supposed to have a date with Violet but she was not answering the door. Her parents were both at their weekly therapy session which seemed to be helping, but it worried him when Violet didn't answer the door. What if somebody had broken in? What if she was being held hostage? What if she was being raped and tortured?_

_Tate slammed through the front door of the house, all heard was silence which only seemed to worry him more. He ran up the stairs to her bedroom, where he found her crumpled on the bed with an empty bottle of lying next to her. The next thing he knew was there was surge of movements, tears were streaming down his face and he was running her down the hall to the bathroom. Then the cold water sprayed all over them, and then the smell of vomit filled his nostrils and her sobbing filled his ears._

"_Why didn't you just let me die?" she sobs._

_It was in that moment that it hit him that he had never felt this way about anybody before. "Because I love you."_

"_Then why wouldn't you want me dead, away from this shitty world?"_

"_Because I can't live without you."_

Violet sat on the front porch of her parent's home, she was already dressed for the crisp east coast weather, as well as Maya who lay coddled in her arms in some of Violet's old baby clothes and blankets due to the fact that she was not prepared to give birth in California. Tate even had to run to the store before he could pick them up to pick up a car seat, it had been a week and they finally decided that they needed to go home.

Tate stepped out onto the porch, walking up behind his two girls; kissing Violet's temple and stroking Maya's cheek, gently. He then took a seat next to Violet, wrapping his arm gently across her shoulders, who finally took her eyes off Maya to look at him, giving him a sweet smile. "Hey," she mumbles.

Tate gives her a tender kiss on the lips. "Hello," he whispers against her lips.

Violet turns slightly to Tate, she shifts Maya drawing out a small whimper. "Do you want to take her?" she offers.

Tate automatically scoops the little girl out of Violet's arms, nestling her protectively against his chest. Ever since he first held her, he has had trouble doing little else and at times Violet would tease him how she would have to fight to the death to get a little time with baby.

Tate looks down and he finds himself examining the small girl for the umteempth time, he can't help it; it's like she is changing every second of every day and that amazes him and scares him. Violet notices the look on Tate's face, and breaks the silence. "Yo, shithead," she asks, nervously. "Are you okay?

Tate turns to Violet and smirks. "Ah, there is the Violet I know and love." His face becomes soft for a moment. "I was just thinking," he mutters.

Violet scoots closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "About?" she breathes.

Tate swallows, harshly. "How I almost lost all this," he sighs. "You and Maya, just because of my stupid past and somebody who was nice to me once as a child, who never really wanted me but to use me."

The night Maya was born he had told Violet about the whole pact he had made with Nora years about. He thought she would react more harshly than she did but she was surprisingly sympathetic, maybe because It was back in his super whack job days. She was always so calm about things…

Violet plants a gentle kiss on Tate's neck. "You were never going to lose us," she whispers against his ear. "We both want you."

Tate smiles, slightly. "I want you both too," he mumbles.

Violet nods and looks down at her watch. "We should go catch our flight." She looks across the street at Constance's house. "Did you want to go home and say goodbye to _her_ anyway?"

Tate shakes his head. "No," he corrects, quietly. "That was never my home…Boston isn't even really my home."

Violet quirks an eyebrow, "Are we moving and you didn't tell me?" she cracks. "Last time I checked we live in Boston."

Tate smirks and kisses Violet's forehead, before moving his lips to Maya's. "No," he chuckles. "Home is wherever you are."

**A/N: Last chapter before the well…the last chapter. Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Instead of writing a final chapter, I have decided to write a sequel to this story.**


	8. SEQUEL

**A/N: I posted the sequel, it's called Disarm. **


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